All That Remains
by bullets-embrace
Summary: Tick, tock, tick, tock. Kurt's time is running out, but so is Blaine's.  The sequel/epilogue of my other demon!Blaine fic, Another Satisfied Customer, although this story still makes sense without reading it .


_Tick, tock, tick, tock._

Kurt lifted his eyes from the floor warily, stealing a glance at the alarm clock on the dresser. He shifted, uncomfortable on the thin mattress, as it ticked on, mocking Kurt with every second it chimed into existence, every second that became precious just as it slipped away. Kurt shuddered. Fingers trembling, he lifted his cigarette to his lips and took a long drag. The feeling of smoke tickling his lungs calmed him, made his eyes slowly fall shut as he savoured the feeling. _Carcinogens be damned, _Kurt told himself, exhaling with a release he didn't know he was holding back, _Not like I'll live long enough to even get cancer._

Kurt knew he shouldn't be thinking these thoughts but he couldn't help himself. Gazing at the bright orange glow between his fingers, watching as it slowly ate up the paper in the dim light of the motel room, Kurt knew it was only a matter of time.

_Tick, tock, tick, tock._

Placing the cigarette between his lips, Kurt got to his feet from the creaking bed and walked to the window. New York was even more beautiful at night, all bright neon lights and constant waves of sound attacking your eardrums from crowds of people, vehicles, clubs...

Kurt stubbed out his cigarette before he leant against the windowsill, crossed his arms, and simply breathed in the cool nighttime air. Now that he'd gotten a chance to appreciate the beauty of it all, the sheer magic of New York City, he felt a stab of regret in his stomach. Regret for a life he knew he would never live properly, regret for not making the most out of the short time he'd had. But most of all, and this terrified Kurt more than words could express, regret for the deal that he'd made exactly ten years ago on that day. Kurt heaved a sigh, biting his lip and rubbing his elbows as he watched a gaggle of girls stumble out of a sleazy club on the corner of the road.

"_You can have a family again. A proper family. Your real family."_

Kurt remembered those eyes. Those large, golden-brown eyes speckled with dusky green. He remembered how beautiful he'd found those eyes the first time he'd met the boy. And most of all, he remembered how easily they could turn from their magnetising deep hazel tones to pure ruby red.

"_...No surrogate mommy, no fake big brother who doesn't really care about you. Just you, your dad, and your mom. Reunited. And all it takes is a kiss."_

Kurt shuddered once more, uncurling an arm to run his fingers across his bottom lip. His mouth was tingling at the memory of Blaine's soft lips on his, the electricity that seemed to pulse through the two boys. He'd been so desperate to have his mother back that he hadn't fully considered what exactly Blaine had meant in terms of payment.

"_But there is a slight catch. You don't have to worry about it for a few years-"_

"_How many?"_

"_Ten."_

He remembered how he'd been so blindsided by the thought of his mother coming back, so overwhelmed with all the possibilities that it never occurred to him that Blaine's kindness would not come without one heck of a bite in the ass. Kurt smirked despite circumstances. Considering what had happened after said mind-blowing kiss, Kurt hadn't intended the whole ass-biting pun.

And then he remembered how trite Blaine had been about the whole deal, how even after it had been struck Blaine had been so caring and gentle, yet fierce and passionate. Every inch of Kurt's skin began burning as he remembered the delicious weight of Blaine on top of him, of skimming hands and groping fingers, of hair being tugged back to release strangled moans, of kisses that ranged from wet and urgent to slow and tender, of Kurt's name being gasped and stuttered from Blaine's mouth as they both rode out their orgasms on the rapidly heating tiled floor of the Senior Commons, of how Blaine's eyes flashed scarlet as he trailed his fingers down Kurt's bare chest as they lay there, spent, before he bent and kissed his nose.

Anger surged in Kurt's chest. It almost weighed him down as he slumped further against the peeling painted windowsill.

Kurt buried his face into the moth-eaten curtains. "You stupid, stupid asshole."

He didn't know if he was referring to Blaine or to himself, but it was most likely the latter.

Suddenly his hands felt empty, weightless in comparison the the dead heaviness in his chest. To remedy it, Kurt found himself fumbling in his pockets for the crushed box of cigarettes.

Kurt had never been much of a smoker, but as he wrenched the box open and hungrily latched onto a delicate rolled up cylinder, lighting the tip with shaking hands and sucking in a lungful of the supposedly toxic smoke, Kurt didn't care. He could feel his phone buzzing in one of his pockets, probably a text from Finn or his mom and dad or, most likely, his room-mate Rachel, but he ignored in in favour of squeezing his eyes shut as they watered from the stinging smoke. He'd said his goodbyes. It wouldn't be fair on anyone to render them useless.

_Tick, tock, tick, tock._

He let himself slide onto the floor, knees tucked under his chin, and puffed out a stream of grey smoke. Finn and Carole's faces when they'd seen Kurt's mom, an image that was burned into Kurt's brain like a badly puckered tattoo, suddenly played behind his eyes.

"_Burt, who is she?"_

"_Let me explain, sweetheart-"_

"_Don't sweetheart me, Burt Hummel, who the hell is she?"_

"_She's... I-I don't know how it's possible, but Carole, she's Kurt's mom. She's my wife."_

"_...I'm your wife."_

"_Yes, of course you are, but she's... don't look at me like that, okay, I don't know how she's here!"_

"_I thought she was dead."_

"_She is. W-well... she should be, yes."_

"_You told me she was dead, Burt."_

"_Why aren't you listening to me, Carole, I thought she was too! I buried her!"_

"_Then how the fuck is she standing in our living room and talking to my son and yours? What are you saying she is?"_

"_I don't- hey, please calm down, okay? Listen to me. I don't know how she's here or what happened. Just give me some time."_

The hurt expression on Carole's face, the venom in her voice that only just failed to mask how she was on the verge of tears... Kurt's stomach turned to ice at the memory. He'd hurt so many people because of one pathetic, desperate, needy kiss with, granted, the world's most attractive teenage boy in existence, but all for what? To see his family being ripped apart even more? To see his father struggling to accept his mom's return? To see Carole and Burt at each other's throats for every damned thing? To see Finn's accusatory stare piercing him every day after he confided in him about Blaine? To see his mother's frantic bustling about the house, trying to make everything better when she- and Kurt- had been the problem all along?

_Was ten years with his mom really worth all that pain?_

"Well I don't know, Kurt, was it?"

Kurt jumped to his feet, cigarette falling from his lips and he stared, slack-jawed, at the blazer-clad figure by the door. The voice harrowed Kurt to his core and he knew instantly who is was even before they emerged from the shadows, dressed in a familiar school uniform. Wide, golden-brown eyes trained on Kurt's as he cocked his head to the side has he had done many a time before.

"B-Blaine?"

Blaine nodded tightly, hands behind his back as he strode closer. Kurt felt his knees go weak, his mouth parched all of a sudden, and he worried for a moment that his legs might buckle. Irritatingly perfect, Blaine's eyes never left Kurt's own as he prolonged his probing and inquisitive gaze, and Kurt noticed with a jolt of panic that Blaine hadn't changed in the slightest. His face was young and smooth, eyebrows gently furrowed above beautiful honey eyes, green flecks almost glittering in the flickering hotel lighting. It was as if he had appeared from Kurt's memory, as if he'd been poured into a mold of exactly how Kurt remembered his form and presented to him like some sort of obscene stage prop. Kurt's hand instinctively flew up to rub across his stubbly jaw (he hadn't been able to shave for a couple of days) as he noted the alarming lack of facial hair on Blaine's sculpted cheeks and chin.

"You look shocked, Kurt." Blaine chuckled thinly, batting his ridiculously long eyelashes at Kurt; he knew it always made the taller- and now sufficiently older- boy's heart skip a beat or two. He grinned even wider when he saw Kurt sink down to the bed, eyes darting away from Blaine's as he tried to somehow gather his scattered thoughts.

Blaine strode closer, stooping slightly to make sure Kurt could hear him clearly. "Did you really think I wouldn't come to see you off? I thought you knew me better than that."

"You," Kurt spoke softly, clenching his hands in his lap in a useless effort to keep from shaking as he looked up at Blaine's solemn, gorgeous face, "You did this to me."

Blaine tutted, shaking his head slowly. "Oh, but I didn't. It was your choice, Kurt. You wanted your mother back, I gave her to you. I warned you there'd be a price to pay didn't I?"

"But-"

"Didn't I, Kurt?"

"Yes but-"

"No buts!" Blaine snapped, voice rising from a somewhat mockingly pleasant tone to being irritated and defensive, "You made the decision. You stated the terms. I only intend to follow through." Kurt winced, flinching as Blaine's eyes flickered to a violent red and fixed Kurt with a glare that would make Lucifer weep. Everything was quiet for a moment, the lonely echo of the clock's sharp tick-tocks filling the air, before Blaine took a deep breath and allowed his eyes to blink back to their original hue. He licked his lips, fidgeting with his pockets, and for a moment Kurt could've sworn he'd seen a smattering of regret surface in those beautiful irises before Blaine hastily turned away to inspect Kurt's room. He looked like a nervous, normal teenage boy. _He looked like what I thought he was when I met him, _Kurt's inner voice whispered.

Blaine cast a furtive eye around the room, running a finger over the lopsided portrait of a fruit bowl and inspecting the thick layer of dust he'd collected with a grimace. "This is a pretty shitty dive you've managed to unearth. Knowing your impeccable taste, I must say that I expected you'd want to spend your last hours in somewhere a little more lavish and a little less.. well, frankly, a little less disgusting." Blaine frowned at the painting, prodding the artist's name, which was scrawled along the top left-hand corner.

"I could've sworn I made a deal with this guy, too. He wanted to be able to paint." He scoffed as if laughing at a private joke. Kurt watched as Blaine reluctantly sat on the edge of a small wooden chair only a few feet away from the bed. "Except the fool forget to mention that he wanted to actually get famous for his work. Or make any money from it at all." Blaine sniffed, a cruel grin tugging at his lips. "He died alone in a room, not unlike this one. with not a penny to his name and not a single person who cared for him in the world. To be honest, he was probably better off dead."

Kurt's eyes prickled. He saw no sign of doubt touch Blaine's smug features. "T-that's horrible. You _did _that to someone? And you don't even care?"

"Uh, hello," Blaine drawled in a sing-song voice, gesturing to his face, "My name is Blaine Anderson and I am a crossroads demon. I am paid to collect souls of unsuspecting, pathetic humans and in return give them whatever they want, and payment is always the same." Blaine's gaze seemed to falter at the end, as if he was slightly embarrassed or ashamed, which Kurt knew he couldn't be. Sighing, avoiding Kurt's eyes, he leant back into the chair. "And also, I'm paid not to give a damn about the people I make deals with. Meaning you."

Kurt hadn't noticed, but he was kneading his hands together hotly and it was getting sore. Part of him was still wildly attracted to Blaine, which in itself was a little odd as Blaine was in the form of a 16 year old schoolboy and Kurt was a 26 year old man, and part of him wanted to slap Blaine across the face for all the damage he'd caused to Kurt's friends and family. And to Kurt himself.

"So you don't give a damn about anything then?" Kurt asked through a clenched jaw, testing his words carefully, "You don't give a damn about all the lives you ruin just by existing, Blaine?"

"Ouch. That was cold, Kurt, even for you. But no, no I don't care."

"Not even... not even a little bit? Ever?"

"Why would I? I'm-"

"A demon, yes! I know what you are, and despite your adamance I don't think it's a valid excuse!" Kurt spat, forgetting his composure and rising to his feet, glaring daggers at Blaine. Blaine's head snapped up to meet Kurt's scalding eyes. If he was angry or shocked in the slightest, he was doing a capital job of not letting it show. Rage bubbled in the pit of Kurt's stomach. Blaine was so fucking frustrating with his fucking puppy-dog eyes and irritating charm, with his smooth voice and ability to turn anyone into putty. And Kurt hated him for it. Fist raised and snarl distorting his mouth, Kurt charged at Blaine with the sole intention of knocking that pretty face right off the face of the planet.

But Blaine stood impossibly fast and grabbed Kurt's flying fist, holding it at eye level. The two boys were an inch apart, barely, Kurt's breath coming in ragged and angry pants against Blaine's closed mouth. Blaine simply stared at Kurt, digging his fingernails into the fragile skin of his knuckles until he winced, eyes screwed shut to prevent unshed tears from falling. Wordlessly, Blaine stepped forward.

"Kurt, I wouldn't try any funny business," He said cooly, waiting until Kurt had stopped choking back sobs and was giving him direct eye contact, before leaning in so their lips were a hair's breadth apart. Kurt stopped breathing. Laughing cruelly, Blaine flicked his tongue out to lap up the residue of salty tears that had pooled in the creases of Kurt's bottom lip. "I own you now. You're mine," He whispered, "Officially mine." He shoved Kurt away, sending the taller boy stumbling backwards against the dresser. Blaine delved his hands into his pocket once more, glanced at the forgotten alarm clock and smiled coyly. "Or at least you will be in about half an hour."

Kurt groaned low in his throat, leaning his head back and rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. "Why, Blaine?" He asked quietly.

Blaine's brow furrowed at the question. "Why what? I thought I just explained why I do what I do. Surely you aren't deaf yet, you're only 26." He tutted mournfully again, and Kurt's stomach knotted at the sound. He _hated _Blaine. "If you are deaf, it sure is a shame. You had such a pretty singing voice back at Dal-"

"Why don't you care about people?"

Blaine's words froze on his lips and it looked for a moment that he was genuinely confused. It was as if he's never considered the question himself- why _did _he not care? Was it just the fact that he was a demon and wasn't allowed to? Since when did Blaine actually follow rules that closely? And if he never cared for anyone, then why was he here now, with Kurt?

Kurt seemed to be reading Blaine's mind. "I- Blaine, look at me."

The demon boy obeyed immediately, to his own dismay, as he tore his eyes from the badly scratched floorboards to meet Kurt's. Slowly, tentatively, Kurt walked towards him. Blaine felt a judder of something electric spread through his body.

_Damn. If Kurt was hot as a kid, he is downright sexy as an adult._

Fuck. Blaine shook his head jarringly. Those were exactly the kind of feelings he wasn't meant to have. Or rather, he wasn't meant to fully believe in.

Before he knew it, Kurt was standing in front of him with his thin arms crossed over his chest protectively, eyes trained on Blaine's, lip caught between his teeth.

"I don't think you are as big of a heartless jerk as you want yourself to be," he said softly, pulling his threadbare cardigan tighter over his shoulders, "I think you're scared."

Blaine surged forward, grabbing Kurt's face and squeezing his frail cheeks, causing the older boy to let out a strangled gasp of surprise.

"You don't know what you're talking about," Blaine hissed, eyes glowing red in their sockets as he brought up his other hand to yank Kurt's head back by his hair. Blaine moved his mouth to Kurt's ear, grunting in satisfaction as he felt Kurt's body shake with suppressed sobs. "You don't know a single fucking thing about me, you pathetic sack of flesh and blood, so _don't try to tell me what the fuck I am," _Blaine growled against his hair, roughly pushing him backwards against the wall so Kurt's head impacted the hard surface with a resounding thud. Gripping Kurt's spiky chin with his right had whilst his left pinned Kurt's wrists high above his head, much like that fateful day in the Senior Commons, Blaine leaned right up to Kurt's face and made sure he could see the vivid scarlet of his eyes. "Hello, Kurt Hummel. You're going to die tonight."

Kurt didn't know what he was thinking when he suddenly knocked Blaine's nose aside and pressed their mouths together, hard.

There it was again.

_Tick, tock, tick, tock._

The electricity flowing between them.

_Tick, tock, tick, tock._

Blaine kissed back for the briefest of seconds before pulling away with a snarl, clawing at Kurt's jaw and digging his nails into his wrists. "You're... supposed to be afraid of me, damn it!"

"I'm not afraid of you," Kurt whispered his lie with as much of a head-shake as he could muster with Blaine's hand clenched on his face. He wetted his dry, cracked lips.

"I pity you."

Blaine whined in response, pressing his body flush against Kurt's and rubbing their noses together. "But I- your family- you're going to die, Kurt." He couldn't help it. He just wanted to feel... he wanted to feel something. _Anything. _Kurt's pain was something, right?

"You're going to die and I'm going to get your soul and then-"

"I need to know you didn't mean what you said, Blaine. About not caring." Kurt's words came in a breathless gasp as he yanked his hands from Blaine's grip, running his fingers down Blaine's cheeks. He dug his nails in, scraping his smooth olive skin and leaving light red marks.

_Tick, tock, tick, tock._

"Kurt, I-"

_Tick, tock, tick, tock._

"Blaine, please."

_Tick, tock, tick, tock._

"Please...I know you didn't mean what you said..."

_Tick, tock, tick, tock._

Blaine stopped fighting it. What was the point?

His grip on Kurt's face slackened to a gentle cupping gesture as his other that was bracing the wall came down to hook across the small of Kurt's back. Kurt gazed at Blaine, their foreheads still pressed together, as Blaine's eyes snapped from red to molten brown-gold.

He knew it was wrong. He knew it was against everything that demons stood for. They didn't believe in love. It wasn't real for demons.

But nothing had ever felt _more_ real than standing there with Kurt, feeling the room melt away into almost nothing, feeling like everything else existed as mere clusters of burning embers that slowly closed in on the two boys, threatening to roast them alive as hands clutched hands and teeth caught lips and tongues battled fiercely for desperate dominance, breath hitching and moans shaking their bodies as they grappled for more time in a world that was soon to fall away forever

_Tick, tock, tick, tock._

Blaine pulled away from Kurt's throat, licking up his jaw and threading his thumbs through the loopholes of Kurt's jeans.

_Tick, tock, tick, tock._

"I'm not meant to care about anyone..."

_Tick, tock, tick, tock._

"...and I never have cared about anyone..."

_Tick, tock, tick, tock._

"...until you, Kurt.

Kurt turned away from Blaine momentarily, frantically straining his neck to see the shadowy clock-face. Meanwhile, Blaine took advantage of the exposed stretch of skin Kurt had offered up, and latched back onto Kurt's throat.

**11:59PM.**

_Tick, tock, tick, tock._

"Blaine," Kurt spoke in a rush, grabbing Blaine's face with both hands and forcing him to lock eyes. Kurt could see so much emotion tangled in the pools of complex yellow and brown, hints of green bleeding into the gold and showing so much pent up anger and want and lust and... and...

"I love you, Kurt Hummel."

**12:00AM**

Their howls made Kurt's stomach drop, blood singing in his ears. He felt his body freeze in Blaine's arms, felt the blood draining from his face.

They were coming for him. He could already hear their vicious snarls and barks of delight, their paws thudding as they raced to Kurt's door with every intention of ripping it off its hinges. And then ripping the life out of Kurt.

"I... I love you," Blaine repeated, his hands tightening on Kurt's hips. He screwed his eyes shut. Never had he wanted to break a contract more.

Kurt leaned in once more and kissed Blaine softly. He snuck his mouth to rest it next to Blaine's ear before whispering harshly against his violently mussed hair something that shook Blaine more than he'd ever admit.

"I hate you, Blaine Anderson."

And then the door collapsed with a loud smash, along with everything Blaine thought of himself.


End file.
